The light at the end of her fingertips flickers, then slowly dies away. Lena balls her hands into fists with an angry grimace, swallowing a string of curses. She wishes she was in her lab so she could throw something – an ill-fitting part, a misbehaving instrument, a computer that that doesn’t work as it should. But there really isn’t anything to shoulder that blame. It’s all her, the one who cannot tame her magic, cannot best it and bend it to her will.
She can feel her temples throb with anger, the taste of bile on her tongue. Luthors don’t know defeat, won’t ever admit defeat, but the humiliating confession of I can’t do it is already clawing at her throat, just waiting for her to be weak enough–
And then the couch dips and Andrea’s arms slip around her.
“Let me help, my love.” Her voice is a gentle whisper as she tucks her chin into the crook of Lena’s neck, pressing a kiss to her hairline.
“You can’t,” Lena grits back. “I can’t–“
“Yes, you can.” Andrea cuts her off. Her tone is still tender, but assertive enough to cut through Lena’s sullen anger. She only lets out a frustrated huff in turn, lets her body sink into her girlfriend’s arms and Andrea hums, satisfied. Her hands move from Lena’s midriff, palms gently sliding over her forearms, coming to rest only when her hands cover Lena’s own. “Just watch, baby.”
Lena can’t resist rolling her eyes, and promptly receives a light nip on her shoulder for it. Before she could retaliate, though, there’s a light, ticklish sensation on the back of her hands that she already knows well: when she stares down, she’s met with the sight of the black, smoke-like clouds pouring from Andrea’s fingers, forming a perfect sphere in the palm of Lena’s hands.
“See?” Andrea murmurs, smiling. Her lips ghost the line of Lena’s jaw. “There’s your outline. Concentrate on that.”
Her thumbs swipe over the back of Lena’s hands, a slow, reassuring caress until Lena takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders again. She chants the spell again, slowly, weighing every word with painstaking care, eyes fixed on their joint hands.
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing. Then, at once, she feels her chest burn, her palms buzz and her fingers shake as light, a white, crystalline, blinding light erupts between her hands. It swirls wildly between her fingers for a moment – then Lena curls her hands, still pulsing with powers, and it takes shape, forming into a ball until it brushes against the outlines of the shadow sphere. Somewhere, vaguely, she can feel Andrea’s hand tremble against hers.
Lena doesn’t move: she can only keep staring and staring at the light, the sign of her power, in utter disbelief. It’s Andrea’s delighted laugh that shakes her from her reverie, the feeling of her girlfriend’s arms snaking around her waist once again, squeezing tightly as Andrea peppers her cheek with kisses. “You did it, see, I knew you could–”
Without a word, Lena turns her head to capture her lips. When Andrea sighs into her mouth and smiles against her, the light blazes just a little brighter between their hands.
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